Young Ones meet Edmund
by IMeMine
Summary: OK, the title sucks, sorry- welcome to suggestions! The Young Ones move into a new house, with a new landlord... Mr. E. Blackadder!


NOTE: These characters do not belong to me. They belong to Messrs. Elton, Curtis, Mayall, Sayle, Atkinson, and Ms. Mayer, all of whom are bloody brilliant. Thanks again to them, and please R&R!!!! (Also, thanks to Melisssa for the idea of a Young Ones crossover)  
  
************************************************************************ Four young men tumbled out of a yellow Ford Anglia (with flames on the side). Three of them looked as if they were going to be horribly and violently ill. The fourth, however, a tall, orange-haired punk in drainpipes and DMs, climbed out of the driver's seat looking excited.  
"Vyvyan," moaned the tall, long-haired hippie, "that wasn't very cool, you know. You went much too fast!" He clutched his stomach with one hand, and his mouth with the other, his face going a sickly green.  
"Well, Neil, I had to drive fast, or else we wouldn't have gotten here in time!" explained Vyvyan.  
The shortest of the four looked over the top of his sunglasses at Vyvyan. "In time for what, exactly, Vyv?"  
"In time for..." Vyvyan faded off. "The police not to find us when they showed up at the old house!" He grinned, satisfied with his answer.  
"It's your bloody fault the police were coming at all, Vyvyan! If you hadn't started leaving corpses in the neighbors' drives, maybe we wouldn't have gotten evicted!" exclaimed the last man, a spotty student in a black jacket with an anarchy symbol on the back.  
"But if I hadn't put them there, where would I have left them, Rick? Once you steal a body from the morgue, they don't bloody want it back!" screamed the punk.  
"Guys, how's about we stop this fighting and go meet our new land lord," Mike suggested, picking up his small suitcase. Rick and Neil followed suit, and Vyvyan grabbed a garbage bag out of the boot of the car.  
"I don't understand why you can't get yourself a proper suitcase, Vyvyan! What happened to your old one?" asked Rick. "You look like a bleeding street person."  
"He broke it over my head after he'd unpacked at the old house," remembered Neil with melancholy.  
"Oh, yeah!" said Vyvyan. "That was bloody brilliant, wasn't it?!?"  
But before Rick could tell him that it wasn't, in fact, brilliant, they had reached the front door of the house. Mike, always the leader, knocked with a tight fist.  
"Wow! The door, like, doesn't explode when you knock on it, guys! Neil exclaimed excitedly, waving his hands in the air for emphasis.  
"Neither did the one at our old house, you hippie!" Vyvyan biffed Neil on the back of the head, causing him to stumble into Mike, who pushed him away, disgusted.  
"Oh, no, Vyvyan, it never exploded when you knocked!" Rick rolled his eyes with exaggerated sigh.  
"No, actually, Rick, it didn't! That was only when someone rang the bloody doorbell!" And Rick, too, received a hit on the back of the head.  
The door opened with a creak, and a head popped out. The man that regarded the four lads had a small black goatee, and a very bored look. "Can I help you?"  
"Yes, we-"  
"Sorry, I'm not interested in buying any washing up liquid or stolen videos, thank you."  
"No, you see-"  
"Thank you, goodbye." And the door moved the close. Vyvyan stuck his leg inside, stopping it from doing so. This time, the door opened completely, revealing a tall, dark-haired man in his 40's, dressed impeccably in a black suit.  
"Hello, are you," Mike regarded a piece of paper from his pocked, "Mr. E. Blackadder?"  
"No, I'm Pope Gregory the Seventh," the man in black said dryly.  
"Oh, heavy, guys, we've, like, come to the wrong house!" Neil moaned. "Now we've got to get back into Vyvyan's car." He shuddered.  
Blackadder looked at the hippie with revulsion. "Yes, I'm Mr. Blackadder. How may I help you?"  
"Well, our old landlord, Jerzei Balowski, said that you might have a house to let?" Mike explained. "Said you owned a couple of these houses along here." He motioned up and down the block to the row of virtually identical houses.  
Blackadder's eyes lit up. "How is old Jerzei doing? Haven't seen him since school... St. Matthews, you know," he added.  
The boys exchanged glances. "So he was British!" murmured Vyvyan.  
"So, do you have a place to rent?" asked Rick. "Because if you don't, we can always take our business elsewhere!" he added haughtily. This merited another smack from Vyvyan.  
"Poof!"  
"Yes, well, as it happens, I do, actually, have a free place."  
"Excellent! No rent!" Rick exclaimed with an excited nod.  
"Rick, I think he means it's free, like available, not free like free sex" Neil explained. Rick frowned.  
"I knew that, Neil. It was a joke!" he said snidely, followed by a "hippie!" for good measure.  
"Follow me," Blackadder motioned for the guys to follow him to the house next door to the one they'd been standing at, which was exactly like the previous one, aside from the fact that it was a wee bit shabbier. "Rent is £50 a month." He fished a key out of his pocket, and handed it to Mike. "I'm afraid I only have one key.  
"I live next door," he pointed to the house where the boys had first knocked. "With my wife, Elizabeth, my daughter, Portia, and my servant, Baldrick. Your other neighbor is George St. Barleigh. I feel for you, as his brain is about the size of the Pope's condom collection. And your names are." He pulled out a small notepad.  
Mike stuck out a gloved hand. "Mike Thecoolperson at your service." After a firm handshake, he asked the age of Portia Blackadder.  
"She's nineteen, although I will warn you now that if you so much as come near her, I will be on you like a dog on a pile of cat carcasses." Blackadder turned to Neil. "And you are?"  
Neil followed suit, and stuck out a hand. "Like, I'm Neil Pye." Blackadder eyed his dirty hand with repulsion before moving on to Vyvyan.  
"Vyvyan Basterd!" he screamed.  
"Charmed," said Blackadder without conviction. "And you?"  
"Rick," Rick supplied. "And I will let you know right now that I am a fierce anarchist!"  
"And girly queen," added Vyvyan with a kick to Rick's backside.  
Blackadder peered, brow furrowed, at Rick. "You look familiar. What did you say your name was?"  
"Rick."  
"Not Flashheart, then?" asked Blackadder.  
"Um... no, actually," responded a confused Rick.  
"Sorry, you bear a remarkable resemblance to another school friend. Although," Blackadder eyed the dirty hair, pimply face, and political badges, "on second thought, you don't actually remind me of him so much."  
"Well, that's right, because Rick is an individual, isn't that right, guys?" Rick looked expectantly at the other three, but they all seemed very interested in their shoes at the moment. "Yes, well, I am, anyway."  
"I'm sure," mused Blackadder, who was obviously not quite convinced. "I expect the house to be kept clean, the garden to be kept in good condition, and if I hear one complaint from anyone on this street, I shall have to evict you."  
The guys looked worriedly at each other. With the inevitability of Vyvyan pissing out the window, that would keep the garden watered, but keeping the house clean (not to mention intact) would take some work, as would not bothering the neighbors. But Mike, taking control as always, assured their new landlord that the house would be kept tidy and the neighbors happy. "Especially if they're female," he added.  
"Your mind is as dirty as a dung-beetle who's just been swimming in a large puddle of mud, isn't it?" Blackadder asked disgustedly.  
"Better a dirty mind than a dirty house, am I right, Mr. Blackadder?" Before waiting for an answer, Mike opened the door and let the other three in. Looking at where the camera would be if this was being filmed, he raised an eyebrow and said "What? I've been wondering!"  
  
~Will the guys move in without breaking anything? Who will kill Baldrick first? Will we see Baldrick? Will any of the guys make it with Portia Blackadder? All this and more, in the next chapter ... 


End file.
